Kate Lawson - Keeping Mum

‘He has a purse…’

‘Ah,’ said her mother.

‘He asked me out to lunch and assumed that going halves was okay.’

‘Ah.’

‘Not that I mind going Dutch. Not that I’m against sharing, but he counted out the exact money—to the last penny. You have to admit that is tight.’

Her mother looked suitably shocked. ‘My god, I’d got no idea. Mind you, that explains why he is so good at bringing things in on budget.’ She paused. ‘Aren’t you going to invite us in?’

Cass looked at the pile of boxes in the back of their 4x4. ‘Probably not.’

Rocco’s mind was still elsewhere. ‘Did we ever introduce you to Dirk?’ he said. ‘I mean, there’s got to be someone.’

Nita elbowed him. ‘Not now, sweetie—look, Cass, darling, we thought we’d just bring a few things round now so’s there’s not a last-minute panic. Just sort out where stuff’s going. Get the grand tour before you leave. Get the feel of the place…’ As she spoke Nita’s eyes were moving round the interior of the shop, as if she couldn’t quite make up her mind what to do or say next. ‘You can show us what’s what, explain how the cooker works and the animals—walks and that kind of stuff. And the shop lights.’

‘Mum, we’ve got ages yet.’ Cass stared at them, saw the expression of panic in Rocco’s eyes, and then the penny dropped. ‘No—this is outrageous. The builders are coming in early, aren’t they?’ asked Cass.

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, Cass’s mum held her hands up in a gesture of surrender. ‘They said they had a cancellation—they’re starting first thing,’ she said.

‘And you want to move in early?’

Living above the shop had always made commuting easy and getting away tough. People—friends, family, customers—in the know would often linger, hoping to be asked round to supper, or would pop by on a weekend to borrow an emergency bed or a dining table and a few spare chairs. Several times over the years, as she’d struggled out the door on the heavy end of something, Cass wondered whether it would have been more lucrative just to set up a furniture lending library. And of course when it came to getting away from the shop she couldn’t swing the excuse that she was just leaving for her journey home.

At least tonight her mother had the decency to look sheepish.

‘No,’ Cass said. ‘This isn’t on. You’re not due to move in till the end of the week. I’ve got stuff to do—things to bleach. And I’m knackered—this is the last thing I need. I’ve got loads to do and I’ve got the concert tonight.’

Cass had been planning on giving them the attic rooms, which she had intended to do over with her best white cotton bed linen, a brass bed and a set of ruby red full-length velvet curtains she’d given a customer first refusal on once the holiday was over, along with a nice original 1920s throw and matching bolster—keeping the door firmly shut until they arrived, so that no one furry or smelly would be tempted to sleep in their bed before the weekend.

She thought they could use the other room in the attic as a makeshift office and studio, but she needed to take up a table and various bits and bobs to aid the transformation. And before they arrived Cass had got Buster booked in for a bath, planned to groom the cat, de-flea the pair of them and then spray the whole house with industrial-strength air freshener. She’d already been through the storeroom and earmarked a couple of things to bring in to beautify their ad-hoc flatlet. What Cass did not have were contingency plans for them showing up early.

Meanwhile Rocco was back outside the shop, busy shuffling boxes out of the Discovery and onto the pavement.

‘I haven’t got the attic ready yet. It’s still set up for students.’

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ said Nita. ‘We can have the room next to yours—it’ll be easier and there are less stairs.’

‘And what exactly is all this?’ asked Cass, staring in horror at the growing pile.

‘You don’t mind, do you? They’re valuables, sweetie, books and tapes and precious, precious treasures that wouldn’t stand the dust or the rubble or the clearing up afterwards.’

‘How much more is there?’ Cass asked, as Rocco dragged a tea chest out of the back of the Discovery.

‘Not that much more.’

Cass held her ground until her mother weakened. ‘About another two loads,’ she said after a moment or two’s pause.

‘No!’ said Cass, standing firm in the doorway as Rocco headed towards her with an armload of things from the über pile. ‘Look, it’s one thing borrowing my house, but quite another to take it over entirely. If you want to store this stuff we’ll take it down to the warehouse and put it in there.’

Nita didn’t look convinced. ‘But it’s very precious. I thought we could stack it in our room.’

‘I’ve got to get ready for the concert tonight.’

‘Well, we won’t stop you. Besides, surely it’s more like a dress rehearsal tonight?’ said Nita. ‘Isn’t it? You know, for Cyprus?’

‘Seven for seven thirty,’ snipped Rocco accusingly, tapping his watch. ‘That’s what it says on the tickets.’

‘Not if you’re in the bloody choir, it doesn’t. I’ve got to be there by six fifteen and it’s nearly twenty to now. I need to shower and—and what the hell is that?’ she said incredulously as Rocco struggled in with what looked like a badly wrapped corpse.

‘The bust and lower torso of Lady Hamilton. Your mum bought her for me for my fiftieth. Very rare and we love her, don’t we Nita? We usually keep her in our bedroom.’

Cass sighed. It was pointless to argue. ‘Knock yourself out,’ she said, handing them the shop keys and turning back towards the stairs. ‘I have to get ready. Just make sure you set the alarm and don’t let the dog out…’

‘Off you go then, we’ll be fine,’ Rocco called after her. ‘We can take this stuff upstairs by ourselves. And then we can go back for another load later.’

‘You know where the spare room is,’ said Cass. ‘But it’s your own fault that it’s not all spruced and fluffed and full of crisp white linen.’

‘Oh it’s alright,’ said her mother over one shoulder as she lifted a tiny vanity case out of the back of the Land Rover. ‘We’ve brought our own.’

What could she say to that? With a sigh, Cass headed upstairs to get ready. The dog followed her.

When, a little while later, Cass padded into the kitchen fresh out of the shower, wrapped up in a robe and towelling her hair dry, Rocco—apparently on standby—handed her a mug of freshly brewed coffee.

‘We promise we won’t get in the way,’ he said in a conciliatory voice. ‘And I’m really grateful to you for letting us stay. You know your mum’s not good with chaos.’

Cass lifted an eyebrow. ‘Then you might be in for a surprise. Chaos follows me around like a stray cat.’

He pulled a face.

‘Rocco, all joking aside…you’re very welcome to stay, I’ve already said that, but I’m going to need some space over the next few days. I’ve got loads to do before I go out tonight, let alone go to Cyprus. I need to track down the iron, grab something to eat, glam up, lock up, walk the dog. I haven’t got time at the moment to be all polite and hostess-y…’

But Rocco was a step ahead. ‘Don’t worry about us. Your mum brought some home-made butternut squash soup and rolls, enough for all of us if you’re hungry—oh, and the boys rang while you were in the shower. Danny wanted to wish you good luck, and Joe said is there any possibility you could see your way clear to lending him fifty pounds? Nita said she would send him a cheque.’